In and Out of Costume

I met him at the Fantasy Faire. Cheesy, right? He was cosplaying the Dread Pirate Roberts and the moment I laid eyes on him I regretted not going as Princess Buttercup. Not that I looked bad in my sassy wench get up. There's something to be said for a proper corset and thigh highs. When he laid his baby blues on me, he came right over and got down on one knee. Dread Pirate Roberts took my hand and held it to his lips. "Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses rated the most passionate, the most pure. Care to try for the sixth?"

I couldn't help it. I just started laughing and he did too. He stood up and brushed off his knees. "Was it too much? I was going for authenticity."

"No, no it was perfect. But I don't think that was one of Westley's lines, was it?" The guy had a soft voice at odds with his perfectly Carey Elwes wispy blonde moustache, but I liked it.

He chewed at his lip. "A purist I see. Well, now that I've boffed my role, I think I owe you a drink. May I?" We got drinks and sat down at a picnic table just chatting away about movies and books and music. I missed all the performances I'd come for but I didn't care. It was the best fantasy weekend I ever had, just sitting under a tree swapping stories with a masked man. He told me his name was Chris, and that he worked the faire every weekend in October just for the hell of it. Out of costume, he clerked at a record shop and played in a garage band. 

I have to admit, I was pretty stoked that he wasn't an out of towner. I told him all about my boring tech support job, my cat Benny, and my ridiculous collection of board games. Somehow, that didn't scare him off. In fact, he said, "Cool. Maybe you can teach me to play sometime." We traded numbers on our very out of character phones and parted ways after the fireworks finished. I texted him when I got home. "Had fun! Can't wait to hang out again." Then I spent the next three hours face-palming. 

Chris wrote me back in the morning and invited me to a comic salon the next weekend. Like hell I was going to turn that down. I spent the rest of the week putting together the sexiest Black Widow costume you've ever seen. When Chris met me at the door, he was dressed like Robin, complete with sheer white pantyhose and yellow satin cape. "Nice legs," I giggled. Yes. Giggled. There's a first time for everything, right? 

"Holy guacamole, Batman, we're being invaded by beautiful spider women from Venus!" His Burt Ward impression was perfect. Chris smiled and grabbed my hand just like a kid. We literally skipped in. The ticket guy didn't even blink; obviously he'd seen stranger things. Chris spent the whole day showing me around. We did a lot of standing in line and laughing. It was a really good time and I could tell Chris liked me. He kissed me goodnight when we parted ways, right on the lips. It was sweet and romantic, just like him.
 
We started going out a lot after that and I never got tired of talking to him. Every time we met, there was something wonderful. We did more comic-cons and fantasy fairs together. It was months of cosplay and love with a new theme every few weeks. I spent nearly all my free time with Chris, and the rest of it thinking about him. It was funny though, we never talked about it. About our relationship. I finally decided to put it out there. For my own peace of mind we had to make it official.

"Are we dating?" I asked.

"Do you want to?" He looked dead serious and I got kind of worried. 

"I just thought - I mean, I like you-" I'm not very good at passionate confessions. It's one of those things I'm working on. I practice on Benny sometimes, but he never gives me any feedback.

Chris smiled, his cheeks a little red. "Yeah. Dating anyone else would be INCONCEIVABLE!" That night, he kissed me goodbye. It was passionate, open souled and open mouthed, absolutely the best kiss I'd ever had.

The next few weeks were a blur for me. Chris would come over, we'd watch a movie or play games and there was a lot more kissing. We started collaborating on our costumes, showing up as Watson and Holmes, Joker and Harlequin, Raven and Starfire. It was a whole new world for me in so many ways, one where I had a partner in crime. Well, one that could do more than meow anyway.

We started talking about what we wanted out of life. Our dreams, plans for the future. Did we want a family? A house? A dog? I started feeling really comfortable with the idea Chris was always going to be there. I think he felt it too. It was just serendipity. I even introduced him to Benny. Well, to the glowing pair of eyes under the couch formally known as Benny. 

It was on one of our glorious lazy nights in after a couple rounds of Agricola and rum that it all came to a screeching halt. We were on the couch and it was getting pretty serious. My bra had left the building and my skirt was on its way out. I reached for his shirt, intent on the notion of his naked body and mine, but Chris pulled away like I stuck him with a hot pin. He walked over to the counter, put his head in his hands and wouldn't look up. 

"What's wrong," I asked. 

"This isn't going to work." Chris sounded strangled, the words up in his throat.

"What are you talking about?" 

He spun on me and his expression was so hurt that I felt my heart drop. "It's just not," Chris repeated.

"I thought it was working out pretty well. I love you!" The words just popped out and hung in the air between us. Somehow, I'd imagined saying them for the first time over a romantic dinner with candles and music, not half-dressed and crying. 

"Well shit." Chris sat down on the beanbag and sighed. I wasn't sure what to do. Stand here? Sit down? Run to the bathroom and slam the door so I could have a proper meltdown? He looked at me and I saw there were tears in his eyes too. I went to him and sat on the floor. 

"Just tell me what's wrong."

Chris sighed again and stared at his hands, then he took out his wallet and flipped it open to the driver's license. He handed it to me. The license read Christine Harris. Harris was Chris' last name. Same date of birth, same home address, same height, and same blue eyes. I looked at him and it hit me. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." He grabbed the wallet back from me and crammed it in his pocket. "Get it now? It's not going to work out, ok? I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner but . . ." He wiped angrily at his face. "I just didn't want to fuck this up."

The ridiculousness of the situation hit me. I know it was the wrong thing to do, but I'm socially awkward. I can't help it. I started to laugh. 

Chris stood up so fast he almost fell and the look on his face was pure devastation. He stormed toward the door.

"Wait," I called. "Oh God, Chris! Wait a second!" He shut the door. 

I sat there confused and hurt. I went through hours of self-recrimination. I shouldn't have laughed. I should have hugged him, or said "I understand." Something, anything other than laughter. I wanted so badly to tell him I wasn't laughing at him. That it was at myself and the situation, that a moment in my life could look like a clip from an afternoon soap opera. I wanted to text Chris or call him, but I wasn't sure what to say.

The next day, sober and somewhat rested, I considered the situation. I loved Chris, I was sure of that. Did it change anything that he was born a girl? Did loving him make me a lesbian? Or was I bi-sexual? Did the label even matter? Love is about love not genitalia, not the sex marker on a driver's license. I didn't know much about what it meant to be transgender, but I knew absolutely that whatever he had been through or had yet to go through, I wanted to be there for him. 

I waited a whole three days to see if Chris would call, hoping he wanted me with him as much as I wanted to be there. Finally, with my heart still aching, I texted him. I wasn't sure what to say. An apology? An offer? I wanted to put everything I felt down and send it to him, let Chris decide what to do with me, with us. Finally, I just wrote, "Miss you a lot. Can we talk?" He didn't write back.

The rejection was plain after a week went by. He probably moved on, I told myself. I hurt him and now it's too late. My amazing Dread Pirate, my partner in crime and I blew it. Benny did his best to console me, covering my pajamas in cat hair and kitty love, but I missed Chris. Everything reminded me of him, and I was exactly that pathetic, heart-broken crier you see in those made for TV romance movies. I might have even watched a few of them, commiserating with their lonely heroines.

When my phone went off at three a.m. on a Sunday, I nearly had a heart attack. No one, and I mean not even my mom, calls me at that time of morning. Blearily, I picked up, ignoring Benny's annoyed glare as he was forced to move. "Can you meet me?" It was Chris. Of course it was Chris. I was so surprised I just sat there, holding the phone with my mouth open like an idiot.

"Hello?"

"Meet? Uh, yeah. We can, ummm, hold on." I did my best not to babble incoherently. Just hearing him made me want to tear up again and laugh in relief all at the same time. 

"I was thinking breakfast at six, ok? The cafe over by Tom's?" Chris took a deep breath and I realized how hard it was for him to call me like this.

"Yeah. I'll be there." I wanted to ask why now, what happened, was he ok, but I held back. "I miss you," I said. 

"Me too," his voice cracked and he ended the call.

To say the next three hours were chaotic is an understatement. I went through at least a dozen outfits, everything from my shortest skirt and tightest blouse to the most nonchalant jeans and nerd shirt I owned. I wanted him to see me and want me back but I didn't want to look desperate. What if he didn't like me anymore? What if he met someone else? What if this was just the final in person break up? I was so panicked that Benny gave up on comforting me and hid under the bed. 

I settled on a tight, cute shirt with some nice jeans. Attractive but it didn't scream, "Take me please!" The cafe he'd chosen was busy. Sunday morning early risers, the church-goers and the old people that couldn't sleep in, night-shifters having supper, and students all shuffling in or sitting at various tables with their coffee. I didn't see Chris anywhere. And then I did.

He was sitting at a corner booth, legs shaved and primly crossed. It reminded me of the time we'd cosplayed for a convention, and he had gone as Raven. Less make-up this time, and a really cute dress, but under the wig and the eye shadow it was him. Chris stood up as I walked over and offered me his hand. I ignored it and gave him a hug. It felt so good to be close to him again. For a second, he stiffened and I thought he would push me away, but Chris put his arms around me and we stood there for a long, sweet moment. 

When he finally let go, people were staring. I gave them a smile and made myself comfortable on the bench. Chris gave me a nervous smile. "I haven't dressed like this in a long time but-"

I shook my head, "It's just another costume."

Chris reached for my hand. "I wanted you to see me the way I used to be. I mean, if you can accept me like this then maybe, maybe I'm willing to try. Am I still your boyfriend, even like this?"

"Yep," I smiled and squeezed his hand. "I still see you underneath, no matter how you dress."

"You know people will look at you differently if they know about me." Chris glanced around the diner. "Are you ok with that?"

I followed his gaze, noticed a few disapproving looks, a smirk here or there. "I can handle it," I assured him. "I get funny looks either way."

Chris nodded. "Alright. What about needles? Surgeries? Scars? Transition is messy, expensive . . ."

"I'd be lying if I told you it wasn't scary, but if you can face it, I can too." I meant what I said, felt it intensely.

Chris took a deep breath and looked down at the table. "Ok. So, for the hard part. What about sex? I mean, you're not into women and I'm, I haven't . . ." He pulled his hand away and gestured down at himself. "I'm not like other guys." 

I took his hand back. "I love you, Chris. I don't care what you have in your pants."

"Or don't have," he replied with more than a hint of bitterness.

"We'll figure it out together. I'm just asking you to give us a chance."

Chris gazed at me and I saw him begin to open up. There was so much sadness in his heart, so many rejections. It hurt to look, but I wasn't going to turn away. "You'll take me, scars and all?"

"And all," I agreed.

"As you wish," he said with a hint of a smile curling the corners of his lip.